


Cataloging

by fishmoon



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 02:56:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3233657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishmoon/pseuds/fishmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lavellan has tried repeatedly to flirt with Solas. After an evening of commiserating with Josephine after the events of "All New, Faded For Her", Lavellan trudges back up to her quarters, expecting an empty bed.</p>
<p>Instead, she finds a sleepy old elf in her bed, and has to figure out how to react to this lovely (awkward), wonderful (terrible) surprise.</p>
<p>(From a k!meme prompt.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cataloging

**Author's Note:**

> This was a first attempt at smut, and moreover, written from 1:30-5AM while flailing over this prompt:
> 
>  
> 
> _Sweet, shy Lavellan has a massive crush on Solas. Despite several tentative attempts at flirting, she remains unsure whether he really reciprocates._
> 
>  
> 
> _One evening at Skyhold, though, she retires to her quarters only to discover the sleepy old elf sleeping in her bed. What? Why is he there? How did he get there? How does she react?_
> 
>  
> 
> _Choice wheel:_
> 
>  
> 
> _·Panic and run away_  
>  _·Try to wake him gently_  
>  _·Try to wake him not gently_  
>  _·(Mage special) Enter the fade to seek him out for answers there_  
>  _·Touch his butt._
> 
>  
> 
> So, forgive the lack of pacing (ha!) and enjoy.

Josie was not _lethallan,_ but she was comfortable and open and easy, and had the patience (and curiosity) to draw her out of her shell. It had started with explanations about the Game, and kind-hearted attempts to educate her about non-Dalish customs, and had grown into, well... this.

 

The smooth feeling of the comb through her hair was soothing, and while it was not like her Clan-sibs putting her hair up, Josie's fingers were deft and gentle. "He said... he said, 'never again', and _fenedhis,_ it was a _growl,_ and I fear he will not come back, Josie," she said, slumping forward, shoulders bowed.

 

The comb stilled for a moment before resuming its steady strokes. "Ah, but you forget: you shared dreams with him, no?" Josie asked, a pertly teasing note in her voice. "That is not something so easily forgotten. He will return, and you shall dance around your feelings once more, and I shall have my friend's company for many nights in future, bemoaning... how did you put it? _Fade-tongue_?"

 

She spluttered and twisted from her seat on the floor in front of Josephine, grabbing a decorative pillow and beating the diplomat over the head with it. "I should never have told you that!"

 

Josephine just snagged the pillow, placed it behind her, and reassumed her eldest-sibling dignity, minus that little tug at the corner of her mouth. It was a comfort: in the Clan, the Inquisitor had been the youngest, and finding an eldest-sib here... helped.

 

Josephine tapped her gently on the nose with the comb. "But you did, and such a lovely image it created," she teased, then sobered. "I did not mean to dismiss your worries, my friend. I truly do believe he will return, and likely when least expected. For now, there is a delegation arriving from Redcliffe tomorrow, and that is something best dealt with after a good night's sleep for both of us." The comb made gentle shooing motions, and reluctantly, she rose to her feet.

 

Varric threw her a faint smile as she passed him before he returned to his papers. The problem with so many steps up to her quarters was that it gave her too much time to think. Could she have justified letting Solas kill the mages, as they had unwittingly killed his friend? Would he return? "As well ask myself if Corypheus can still chew with his face like that," she muttered to herself, resting her head on the last door before her quarters with a slight thump.

 

The door swung open, nearly sending her sprawling gracelessly onto the stone floor. "No-one saw tha-"

 

There was a person. In her bed. A person who might have seen that. _Noooooo._

 

And it was Solas. "Nnnoooooooooo."

 

And he was asleep. "Yee---noooooo--yeees?"

 

Sleeping Solas meant no-talking Solas. Sleeping Solas was Not To Be Disturbed, as Dorian had discovered (to the loss of one of his fine robes). Sleeping Solas meant--

 

\--Solas in her bed? _YES!_

 

He hadn't stirred at her stumble or mumbling, so she got to perch on the edge of the bed and just watch him (Was that weird? Maybe it was weird) and try to figure out what to do with this unexpected ... boon? Disaster? Wonderful present?

 

Perhaps there were memories of this tower he was exploring in the Fade? Or he'd been waiting for her and just fallen asleep? Should she wake him? Should she just treat this like an aravel and sleep alongside him as if nothing had ever happened? He probably thought she was his student, what with all the _da'len_ talk, so it couldn't hurt, right?

 

She rubbed her cheek with one hand, sighed, and shucked off everything save for her smallclothes. Treat it like an aravel, and he as her _hahren,_ and make no assumptions beyond that.

 

The bed was big enough for more than she and Solas, no matter how tall he might be. He did not stir as she slid beneath the covers with him (necessary at this altitude, no matter how odd it felt to a Dalish-raised girl), and she held her breath until she saw spots, just in case.

 

It took a long time to fall asleep, and she guarded her dreams carefully.

 

* * *

 

 

Elrion was being clingy again, one arm and a leg thrown over her, pinning her. No stranger to what men woke up with in the morning, she ignored the insistent poking in her back and tried to squirm away from her friend, grumbling under her breath.

 

The arm tightened, and she jolted herself out of memory and into the present. That was not the earthy scent of her aravel and her _lethallen_ , and the body behind her was far too solid to be--

 

Memory rushed back. Solas. Returned. _(Yay!)_ In her bed. _(Yay!)_ Asleep. _(Nooo.)_

 

He smelled of the herbs and pigments he used for his paints, with a musky undertone of the wolf-pelt he often wore, and himself. And he was still asleep; she could feel his breath ruffling the hairs at the nape of her neck, provoking a slight shiver that she turned into another escape attempt. She would not hold sleep-reactions against anyone. It simply wasn't polite.

 

The arm tightened, then released. She started to get out of bed, but a hand closed about her wrist. Solas was watching her when she turned to look. He was silent. She summoned a smile from somewhere. "Good morning, _hahren_. I... I'm happy to see you've returned."

 

He blinked at her, and she was aware of his thumb stroking over the pulse-point in her wrist. "I ... had not intended to return this early." He gave her wrist a slight tug. "But I could not find my friend's energies in the Fade. My focus was not what it should have been." She settled back onto the edge of the bed, free hand hovering halfway between them, fingers outstretched before she pulled back. Solas caught her hand, pulling it to his cheek, then turning his head to nuzzle it gently. "Too much has been lost already. I did not wish to lose more. Or be alone."

 

She could feel her ears burning. "Next time you mourn, you don't have to be alone," she said, keenly aware of how her pulse was thrumming under his fingertips. "I'm glad you've returned," she finished lamely, looking out the window at the pale morning light. She missed the flash of frustration that crossed his face, but she did not miss the brush of his lips on the center of her palm. That had her head whipping back, eyes wide to stare at him. "... Solas?"

 

He released the hand at his cheek, sitting up to look at her with that awkward warmth that had made her kiss him in the Fade. This wasn't the Fade, though, and he was grieving, and there were so many reasons she shouldn't kiss him again, but the slight quirk at one corner of his lips undid her, and she leaned in, giving him enough time to pull away if he wanted.

 

Solas did not pull away. She did not push beyond a testing, querying brush of her lips against his. She was just opening her eyes again, heart sinking -- I pushed too far, I was wrong -- a breathy, "I'm sorry," parting her lips when he moved, covering her mouth with his own.

 

This was no gentle touch: at the same moment, he pulled the wrist still in his grasp, pulling her support out from beneath her so that she fell back to the bed. She gasped into his mouth, and he took advantage of it to deepen the kiss, coaxing a throat-caught moan from her. In a flurry of linens and blankets, she found herself trapped beneath him, one wrist still caught in his hand, his other hand bracing himself above her, one knee between her thighs, sparking heat as he shifted his weight upwards.

 

He drew back, breathing deeply, his eyes upon her mouth, then her flushed cheeks, then meeting her gaze. There was turmoil there, but also need, a hunger that had her licking her lips unconsciously. She felt him tremble. "I have been alone for a long time. I should remain so, but... I cannot." The tips of his ears were red, she noticed, and that awkwardness had returned.

 

While Solas talking was good, Solas acting was better. She levered herself upwards and tugged him down to her at the same moment, silencing him with a kiss far less uncertain than before, tongue sweeping out to taste him, intent on breathing him in. He did not relax, holding himself stiffly above her until she dared to nip his lower lip. The sting broke his hesitation, and she found herself crushed back into the bed by his weight, aware of him at thigh, stomach, breast and wishing for skin on skin.

 

Her hips arched up to rub herself against his thigh, a needy whine escaping her throat. He nipped admonishingly at her jaw, then soothed the spot with a kiss. "Have some respect for your elders," he murmured against her throat, then pulled away to look at her.

 

A laugh bubbled up. "Of course, _hahren._ " She gave the title a little twist, accompanying it with another grind against the solid muscle of his thigh. The relief -- not wrong, not too far -- made her bold, made her body light with joy and heavy with want at the same moment, and she yanked his wolf-bone necklace to pull him down to her again. She could feel his erection pressed against her, and this time, she didn't politely ignore it, releasing his necklace to palm him through his pants. "Do you need some help?" she asked cheekily, "Given your advanced age..."

 

Solas laughed, the little snort at the end warming her insides, the tight coil of want within her belly easing into a less needy, desperate thing. Releasing her wrist, he rolled slightly to the side of her, adopting that light, lecturing tone even as his fingers skimmed over one nipple through her breastband. "I think I will take my time with you. A new study deserves my full attention. And you-" He plucked delicately at her breast, eyes intent on her reaction. "-have that."

 

"Not like that," she told him, breathless less because of the touch and more because of the intensity of his gaze. She took his hand, guiding his fingertips to circle, circle, and even through the wrapped cloth she could feel the heat coming off him. "Like this. Light and gentle, around the edges." She paused. "Though this isn't a good exchange of information right now. I would like to learn you, too." Her free hand plucked at his tunic teasingly.

 

He took the hint, pulling away and sitting up enough to undo his belt and shuck his tunic, meeting her gaze a moment later as the wolf-jaw necklace swung between them. She sat up to face him, undoing her breastband and letting it fall to the floor behind her. Then, his gaze did drop, and she felt a flash of wet heat between her legs at the want in his eyes. He looked back up at her face, a fingertip tracing the path of her vallaslin, the want muted by something she could not name. "This..." he began. "This is not a fair bargain, ma vhenan. And there are things I cannot tell you."

 

She grasped the necklace and tugged him to her again. " _Ma'arlath,_ Solas. For now, do not force yourself to be alone," she whispered into his ear, then suckled his earlobe, breathing over the damp flesh a moment later. Shy she might have been when uncertain of his feelings, but not now. His hands slid downwards, skimming the edge of her smallclothes before sliding over her ass, lifting her closer to him. She tilted her head, pausing over his throat before she nipped gently--

 

\-- and found herself flat on her back a moment later, both wrists trapped above her head in one of his hands, head spinning and eyes wide. Solas looked down at her, lips pulled back from his teeth in a dangerous sort of smile. "I did say I would not be fair. Do not move."

 

Her head still spun, but the low, dangerous tone brought back that knot of sheer want in her belly, and she tipped her head back unconsciously, exposing her neck. He slowly released her wrists, tracing the line of muscles down her arms to her shoulders, cataloging each tiny twitch of her reaction. Over her collarbone, then to the hollow of her throat, where he replaced fingertips with mouth, nipping the skin there before laving it gently with his tongue. Each careful touch, each puff of breath over her dampened skin sent a jolt of heat between her legs.

 

He traced the shape of her breasts once more, then bent to take one nipple into his mouth, his fingertips still ghosting over her other breast. "Not there, I see," he murmured lazily, and she quivered as he moved downwards, pressing kisses to her navel, then just over where her smallclothes began. These, he undid, a hand beneath her hips canting them just so to help her slide them off. Solas inhaled deeply of her scent, and she felt another dizzying flush spread down over her chest.

 

He still lingered, one hand on her hip, his mouth over her other hipbone, looking up at her with satisfaction when a whisper-light caress provoked a hitch of her breath. It was maddening, this slow pace, but she dared not move. Her fingers tightened on part of her headboard to stop herself from reaching for him, and he smirked at her.

 

Solas shifted downwards again, tracing the outside of her thighs until she quivered, parting her legs. Again, he breathed deeply, and she whimpered, hips shifting beneath his hand, fingers clenching and releasing. "Solas," she breathed warningly, and wished her voice were steadier.

 

"Yes, _ma vhenan'ara_?" His tone was mild, the same voice that greeted her in the rotunda. Only the faintest hint of a growl was behind it, but it was enough to make her protests dry nothingness in her throat.

 

He slid one hand down her leg, lifting it over his shoulder. It was the only warning she had before he buried his face in her folds, nose nudging her clit even as his tongue lapped at her cunt. She moaned his name, head falling back against the mattress. He licked upwards, tongue swirling around her clit, teasing it with warm wetness. She tried to lift her hips, tried to pull him closer, but his grip on her did not ease. "Please," she whimpered.

 

"Hmm?" He lifted his face from her, and she whined in frustration at the loss of him, the loss of sensation that had been tightening within her. "I can be very patient, _emma lath._ "

 

Frustration made her coherent once more, and she looked down at him. "You can be a _tease_."

 

He laughed again. She moved, swinging her leg free, pulling him up to her again, tasting herself on him, the salt-sweet of her on his lips as she tangled her tongue with his. Her hands were on his cheeks, holding him still, but she still had leverage: in one swift motion, she rolled them, until she was crouched over him, straddling his hips. Those damnable pants had to go.

 

Beneath her, Solas was still chuckling softly, his hands ghosting over her hip, up her side in idle patterns. She slid out of his grasp, perching on the end of the bed as she undid the lacing around his legs, and folded them to the side. The pants followed, and he was as bare as she.

 

He was broader in the shoulder than most elves, and leanly muscled. The muscles on his calves and thighs were strongly defined -- so much walking, she mused -- and she followed the line of his body up to his cock, flushed and proud, a droplet of moisture on the tip. He allowed her perusal of his body, leaning back against the pillows with the faintest of smirks on his lips. Her choice, it would seem. It was always this with him, this push and pull, one minute dominant, the next waiting for her.

 

She slowly worked her way back up his body, noting where he twitched, where his expression shifted, until she was once more chest-to-chest with him, his erection trapped between them. She was dizzy with want now, and the light touches of his fingers to the tips of her ears, the side of her neck, all those spaces he'd noted earlier, all were making her breath come fast. He was flushed, too, but waiting for her yet.

 

She slid slickly over him, coating his cock in her moisture. Even this made her whine, eyes slitting nearly closed. She saw Solas swallow a groan through her narrowed eyes, and reached between them. "You aren't alone," she told him, sliding slowly onto him, feeling the stretch and exquisite fullness between her legs. " _Ar lath ma, Solas_."

 

She wanted to move, wanted him to move, but she waited, letting herself adjust. He had his head tilted back, and she could see the strain in him. Waiting for her to move, still. She pushed herself up halfway, feeling the slick slide of him within her, then slid back down, setting a slow, rocking rhythm that drew hisses of breath from them both.

 

Looking at him beneath her, she saw one hand clenched into a fist at his side. Control. He had so much of it... too much. It was getting harder for her to think, but he would not let go. On the next upstroke, she leaned forward, nuzzling his exposed throat. "Let go, Solas," she whispered, and bit his throat once more.

 

He snarled at that, pupils blowing wide and dark, control breaking. The world whirled around her until she was on her hands and knees, cold and empty for only a second before he plunged into her from behind, and she tried to moan his name, but choked on it as he slammed into her.

 

The hand not holding her there plunged between her legs, no teasing now as her world both grew and shrank simultaneously: the feel of his hands on her, of him fucking her was everything and the only thing she needed. Her breath grew ragged and her vision went white, her body clenching around him as she fell over the edge of orgasm.

 

He trembled behind her, and came within her in short, sharp spurts, a ragged groan escaping him, so unlike the sharply-controlled man of earlier. She slowly came back to herself, his weight across her back striking something deep within her: she had taken him, and he her, and there would be no dancing around the topic now.

 

Solas murmured into her ear in Elvhen she did not easily recognize, softening within her. She ached for the loss of his fullness as they pulled apart. With trembling arms, she used a corner of her abandoned breastband to wipe herself clean, and turned to do the same for Solas. He rested his head against her breast once she had finished, tracing idle runes over her skin as she cradled him close. It was enough.

 


End file.
